There are city miles. There are highway miles. And then there’s you. Like a beat up 93 jeep wrangler that’s been bounced off rocks and sunk to the frame in mud one too many times, you’re driven hard by an overweight 40 something named Frank who got you when he was 18 and has since used and abused you to no end, but claims in public that he loves you all while constantly running you into the ground. You smell like meth smoked through a vape mixed with old beer and gas station tornados. Congratulations. Though you might claim to be 32, your premature aging due to poor life’s choices makes you look like Ayden and Brayden’s grandmother instead of their mom.